


Fears

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [15]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Bigotry & Prejudice, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sibling Incest, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:57:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor laughs, because every-fucking-thing in Therapy World is littered with buts and caveats.</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Dreams and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Talking feels like the end of the world.

" _Why_ is it that every goddamned time I talk to you it all boils down to sex," Thor asks his therapist, ruefully, mind and body caught in a three-way tie between _frightened_ and _laughing_ and _mortified._ Ultimately laughing wins out. "I can’t believe I just paid someone to listen to me going and on about how my brother _put his finger up my ass._ ” He really can’t. “Fucking hell," he exclaims, finally. "What is _wrong_ with me?" He laughs again, harder, partly to take the edge off his tone and partly to cover - okay, sure, it’s more like _demonstrate_ \- his nervousness.

"Processing new things is always at least a little bit challenging," the social worker tells him, sounding, as usual, unfailingly patient and only the faintest touch amused. "That's especially true when we're way outside our comfort zones."

Thor snorts. "I didn't realize my asshole really was all the way out by Uranus. Sorry, sorry," he offers, right away, because that? That was just plain inexcusable. "A pun that bad has no right existing," he apologizes as the therapist snickers. "Please, don't feel obligated to humor me. But seriously," he goes on, because he does want to understand, "why would such a small thing be such a big fucking deal?" _It's not like Loki was pounding me into the mattress,_ he doesn't add.

Hardly.

"Well, for several reasons," his therapist offers, and even just that is far more of a relief than it should be. "Ceding control isn't easy or comfortable to begin with, especially when power play isn't something you're used to. And you hadn't just put Loki in charge of your conscious actions, had you?"

"Huh?" Thor isn't quite sure he gets the question. In fact, he's reasonably sure he doesn't get it. "I don’t think I know what you mean."

"Fair enough,” the social worker concedes. “From what you've described, you were essentially yielding control of your body, too, in a lot of ways."

He hadn't thought of it that way. "Yeah, maybe," he admits. "Probably."

"That takes a lot of trust, doesn't it," his therapist asks.

It does. Thor shivers. "Um. Yeah." He's so eloquent when it comes this crap. He still can't fucking imagine talking about the whole thing properly; not with his brother. Not with anybody.

"And on top of all that," the social worker continues, calm as ever - the man really is a saint, the shit he has to listen to - "anal penetration carries with it all kinds of social and emotional implications. That's equally, albeit differently, true whether you enjoyed it or not."

"I did," Thor confirms quickly, because he's safe here hiding behind his phone. And then he realizes... that he's only just let himself admit he’d liked it. To himself, even. "I suppose you're going to point out that I should tell him," he complains, but he’s really only grumbling a little. Mostly he feels- resigned. "But I don't know how," he goes on, not at all sure he’s going to like whatever he gets for an answer.

"Well, I'd certainly rather you didn't lie to Loki," the social worker starts off; which isn't at all what Thor expected, "but that doesn’t mean you have to volunteer information you’re not comfortable discussing." _Huh._ "Just keep in mind," he continues, and Thor laughs because every-fucking-thing in Therapy World is littered with buts and caveats, "that your brother sounds to have had some structured past experience along these same lines. That means you likely won't be getting any more of Loki's _finger up your ass_ , as you put it, unless you tell him you'd like to have him put it there."

Thor groans, with quite a bit more feeling than he'd really planned on sharing. "I think it was pretty obvious I enjoyed it," he protests.

"Be that as it may," his therapist warns, "that’s not how these things work. I’m sure Natasha told you that.” She probably did. “Especially early on like this,” the therapist continues, “Loki will want your clear, actual consent." _Green yellow red. Stoplight colors._ "He isn't going to risk guessing."

Oh. _Oh._ Shit. "That's what I should have been doing, isn't it," he half asks, half tells. "With him. I should have been getting his permission." It's such a foreign concept. _May I please choke you? May I spank your pretty pink ass until you can't sit down?_ He snorts, despite himself, trying and failing utterly to picture a conversation. "No wonder he says I'm so bad at it."

The therapist laughs, gently. “He certainly does seem to think it’s worth being patient with you, though.”

That’s true. And surprising. “I worry-.” Thor almost blurts out the rest, then catches himself. Too late, of course. It’s not like the guy lets anything sneak past him.

“Yes,” his therapist prompts, and Thor sighs. Busted. “I worry that Loki is going to get tired of me. Compared to him I’m so boring, I guess. So vanilla.” He takes a big, gulping breath; he’s in this deep… might as well just keep going. “Actually, I worry that it’s the whole _taboo_ of our relationship that’s always interested him, all the way back to the beginning.” He’s been thinking about that particular gem quite a bit since their dinner with Steve, truthfully. “And if people start to be okay with it, I feel like, he won’t want me anymore.”

“Have you-.”

“-talked to him about it,” Thor finishes, “I know, I know. I probably should, but…” He’s even afraid to say it.

“But?”

He swallows. Twice. “But I don’t want to put ideas into his head.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, right out of nowhere, and it actually kind of shocks him. “Huh. That’s pretty fucking idiotic, isn’t it?”

“It’s a fairly common fear,” the therapist assures Thor. “You really don’t need to beat yourself up about it.” And then he laughs. “Evidently the bad pun problem was contagious.”

~

Before he hangs up the phone, Thor agrees to give talking about it a go.

In fact, when he’d left work, he’d meant to bring it up that same evening. Really, he had. But Loki is in a brutally pissy mood by the time Thor gets home and they’re both completely exhausted and… and… okay, he chickens out, pure and simple.

Some other time, maybe.

~

“Thor’s been having nightmares,” Loki volunteers, not particularly helpfully, when Thor is a little too slow to respond to Dr. Ginny’s latest question about his recent trouble sleeping.

“Loki,” she reminds his brother – politely, of course, because she’s never anything other than polite – “it’s best if you let Thor answer for himself when I’ve asked him a question.”

Loki sighs dramatically. “Sometimes he has things he needs to talk about. If we leave it up to him, though,” he explains, a bit petulant-sounding, “he may just never get there.” He sighs again. “He’s worse than me.”

She sets her pencil down, neat and precise. “Isn’t not talking about things his choice, though” she asks, nicely. Thor’s not sure he’s ever heard her raise her voice, no matter how difficult the two of them might be.

_There was a time not long ago_ , he thinks, _when challenging Loki would have ended the discussion Right Then and There._ Even now, after all the work they’ve done, his brother’s expression tightens. “I suppose that’s an easy stance to take when you’re paid by the hour,” Loki snaps. “Whatever. I’m just trying to help here.”

Maybe he isn’t, but maybe he is. “It’s okay,” Thor cuts in. He isn’t here to see Loki fight; not with him, not with Ginny. Not with anybody. “It’s all true. About the dreams,” he clarifies, “and, well, about things that need airing.” The surprised expression on his brother’s face somehow manages to be at once upsetting and guiltily satisfying. He locks eyes with Loki for a long moment, then turns back to the doctor. “I’m afraid.”

“Is this something you feel comfortable discussing today,” Dr. Ginny asks him. “Because it’s up to you. We can revisit it another time, if you need to.”

“Thank you,” he tells her, sincerely. “But Loki’s right. If we wait until I feel comfortable, the conversation may just never happen.”

She picks her pencil back up and flips to a new page, tucking the last one neatly between the covers of her portfolio. “You said you’re afraid. Can you elaborate for me?”

He takes a deep breath. Slow down. Calm down. _You’re fine,_ he reminds himself. “I’m- I’m terrified I’m going to lose my brother. I’ve lost him before, several times.” He swallows. His stomach shifts miserably. “To every name of horror. And I’m afraid it will happen again.” He reaches for Loki’s hand and then spits it out before he can change his mind: “But even more than that I’m afraid he will get bored with me and choose to leave.”

“As far as you know, has that ever happened before,” she questions, making a quick note.

“I- I’m not sure. Probably not?” When he thinks about the whole thing too closely, he just feels silly. Paranoid and silly. “But this is the first time we’ve ever really been accepted as a couple. What if it’s the _badness_ of our being together he gets off on?” He’s feeling really, really anxious now; he’s standing at the very edge of the cliff, swaying a bit against the wind. “Loki,” he asks his brother, “are you going to trade me in on a kinkier model?”

He means the question to be funny; a little something to break the tension. It comes out raw and plaintive instead. He has to pull free of Loki’s grip and cover his face with both hands.

Dr. Ginny must make another note; the room is so fucking quiet that Thor can hear her pencil scratching lightly across the paper. “Would you like Loki to answer your question now,” she asks him.

It’s hard, so hard, to respond, even with his brother’s thumb and fingers tracing gently along the outer seam of his trousers – it’s a friendly gesture, not one that comes right before a dumping, but-. “Please,” Thor chokes out. He’s absolutely fucking terrified.

“Go ahead, Loki,” she instructs, and Thor holds his breath. If he was a praying man, he would be praying. Except he isn’t, and there’s no help coming.

Loki reaches up and gently touches his cheek. “No, baby,” he tells Thor quietly. “I’m not trying to turn you into something you’re not. I just- I want to share things with you. Things that you might enjoy.” His voice catches. “If you’re not into it, that’s- that’s fine. We wo-.”

Thor cuts his brother off right there, even though he knows doing so is pretty much bound to buy him a _rules reminder._ “Please, no, that’s- no. Stopping isn’t what I want,” he says, all in a rush. “Not at all. Please. I liked it. I just need to know we’re okay.”

The room feels like a vacuum. If Ginny says something, Thor doesn’t even hear it over the all-too-familiar roaring in his own ears.

But the end doesn’t come.

When Loki leans in to kiss him, full on the mouth and not the least bit chaste or proper, it’s somehow not even embarrassing. Thor kisses back, hard, lost and wanting and desperate. “Yes,” his brother says, into his mouth. “We’re very much okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fire, meet gasoline.

"Why did you get out of it?"

Thor hears the girl's (okay, yes, it’s a woman, but she sounds young; peppy, a little breathy) voice first. Maybe she's on her cell phone; he can't really hear anyone – anything, except a little traffic out on the main road - else at all. _Her_ voice, though, is precisely modulated and bright. It carries clearly, all the way from the front of the building to the bench where he's sitting and waiting.

Waiting for Loki, who has never been this late out of _kitten handling_ before.

Thor's a little edgy about that, actually. He's trying to be reasonable about the whole thing. To keep it in perspective, to just sit here quietly in the deepening twilight and not text or pound on the door or otherwise act like he's some pathological mutated helicopter parent. Seriously, though, patiently waiting is proving anything but easy. In fact, Thor's pretty confident he's _thisclose_ to losing the battle.

"Wow," the girl says, a little louder this time. A little closer. "I don't know if I could do that. Not for anyone," she exclaims, sounding shocked and righteous. Just from her tone, Thor already doesn't like her.

He leans forward and twists to look along the side of the building, towards the corner. Ah, there she is, just slowly back-stepping into sight. She's short. Glasses, hipster frames. He can't see her sweater well, but she's wearing a striped miniskirt and blocky platform sneakers. Her long dark hair, heavily streaked bright red in the glow of the corner streetlight, is up in a messy ponytail. She moves again; first one foot, then the other, scuffing in the grit. And then she looks up at someone, biting her bottom lip. "Seriously, don't you miss it?"

So, not her phone, then; she’s picking someone up. Thor's seen every form of flirting in the book and this woman has it down to an art form.

Her companion, still hidden by the building, laughs. "Of course I do," Thor can just make out when he leans forward a little farther. "But what am I going to do about it. You win some, you lose some," the guy (because the voice is definitely a man’s) says, clearer now. His voice is still hard to hear; pitched low, a little dangerous, all promises and shared secrets.

And then he laughs again.

It hits Thor like a battering ram, an uppercut right in the gut, and leaves him doubled-over and gasping.

_Loki_

This woman, with her trendy glasses and her daring hair and her artfully sloppy sneakers, _is flirting with Loki._ With _his_ Loki, who doesn't sound anything remotely approaching _taken enough_ just now.

The right thing to do, and Thor knows it with uncomfortable certainty, is to call out a _hello_ to his brother. Now, before anything more gets said.

Ducking quickly out of sight in the convenient darkness of a shadowed doorway, nicely hidden but in easy earshot? Yeah, _not the right thing to do._

But, then again, what Loki's doing - flirting with a pretty girl when he should be riding home, committed and faithful and looking forward to dinner, with Thor - isn't particularly fucking _right_ either.

And just this exact second? Well, Thor isn't too concerned about what two wrongs make.

So he pulls completely back into the shadows and lets them come.

"There's really good scene here if you know where to look," she offers. "Especially for a smaller city. You should come with me some night."

"Thanks," Loki says, "really, but I'm in a relationship and I don't think my partner would go for it."

"Bummer," she tells him, loudly snapping her gum. They're practically on top of the doorway now, almost halfway to the car. "I sure hope your partner is pretty special," she goes on, masterfully navigating the fine line between come-on and lecture, "since it seems like you're the one making all the sacrifices. Hand it over," she demands. Thor hears the synthetic _click_ of his brother's phone unlocking. "There," she says, triumphant, maybe thirty seconds later. "Now you know how to reach me when you change your mind. Sweet dreams."

“’Night, Darcy,” Loki tells her. “See you next week.”

And then she's gone, sauntering across the street and out of view.

Thor observes silently, heart hammering in his chest, as his brother watches her go. After the better part of a minute Loki shoves both hands in his pockets, shoulders up around his ears. Finally he turns and walks briskly on down the block, away from the corner and towards where Thor’d left the car.

Where he always leaves the car. When he dependably and loyally picks up _his boyfriend_ after _volunteering._

_Fuck._

~

Walking up behind Loki, seemingly out of nowhere, will raise all sorts of awkward questions. Questions Thor is not in the mood for just now. He pokes his head out of the doorway, quickly scanning up and down the block, looking for- _there._ Perfect. There’s a scruzzy little convenience store diagonally across the street, near enough to the car to seem plausible without being so very close that he gets spotted. With a quick look left and right, Thor sprints across the street as fast as his legs will carry him.

~

“Oh, hey! Sorry,” he tells Loki as he jogs across the street to the car, keys jingling in one hand and _extra-large ginger ale, just a little ice_ rattle-sloshing in the other. “I got thirsty.” He grins, feeling like his face may split in two. “Want some?”

“No thanks,” Loki says, tugging on the door handle. He peers at Thor over the car roof. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Thor says brightly. “Just thirsty. Cats extra-needy tonight?” He’s not sure if he wants Loki to lie, so he can feel righteous, or tell the truth, so they can fight. More than anything, he wants an innocent explanation to rise up out of nowhere and smooth all the hurt away.

Loki looks quickly at his phone – “no, sorry, I was talking with someone. I didn’t realize it was so late.” – and it- it’s somewhere in between, not a lie and not the truth, and Thor doesn’t even know where to take it.

~

“Want to stop somewhere and get some dinner,” his brother asks, about halfway home. It’s a short enough drive and they make it all the time, but Thor is having difficulty – and that’s putting it mildly – holding up his end of a civil conversation. He’s trying hard to play nice, to act like everything is perfectly normal, but Loki’s trouble radar is a finely tuned instrument and nothing escapes it.

Consequently, the idea of facing off over dinner is utterly unappealing.

“No,” he says, realizing a hair too slowly that he was awfully abrupt just then. “It’s getting late,” he tries, “and I’m not very hungry.” Lying with the truth, yet again. It’s been a while since he had to turn that tactic on his brother, and doing it now- doesn’t feel good. “You can grab something quick at home, can’t you?”

“Um, sure,” Loki says. He sounds deflated.

Thor figures he should feel guilty. He doesn’t. And then he does, but maybe he shouldn’t.

~

The rest of the ride passes in silence. Strained silence. It simply can’t be over soon enough.

~

Going straight home actually turns out to be a major tactical error; once Thor’s back in familiar territory, he can’t sit still. He wants to pace, to throw something. To put his brother up against the wall and- and he doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore.

He has to settle for slamming the dishes around as he cleans up the kitchen. It’s not anywhere close to satisfying.

~

About 9:00 PM Loki corners him in the kitchen. “Okay, stop. Stop with the noise, stop with the bullshit,” he orders, voice a little shaky. “What’s going on? _Tell me_. You’re mad because I kept you waiting,” he suggests when Thor just shakes his head _no_. “Come on. Please? You’re scaring me.”

Thor’s lost his game face somewhere, maybe. Fine. Fight it is, then. He crowds his brother a little, backing him towards the refrigerator, leaning in. Towering. “What’s going on? _What’s going on?_ Why don’t _you_ tell _me_ , brother,” he half demands, voice sharp and hostile.

Loki flinches. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Thor, I really don’t.” He looks so... innocent. But Thor knows better. He was there.

“Oh, fuck you, Loki. Stop already. _Talking with a coworker?_ Really? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” He knows he’s going too far but he- he can’t stop. He’s not the one who’s _making all the sacrifices_. “Why don’t you just go fuck her and get it done with? I’d hate to stand in your way.”

Loki shakes his head from side to side, violently. “What the fuck are you-,” and then the light goes on, and Thor feels a sharp stab of something very much like terror. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. “Darcy? You think I want to fuck _Darcy?_ Wait,” he adds, as the last of it must click into place, and now Thor _is_ terrified. “Were you _spying_ on me?”

“Who’s Darcy,” Thor tries, lamely.

“Oh no no, don’t even start,” his brother orders, chin up, right in Thor’s face now. “You heard me talking to her. You’re blown. Don’t even _try_ lying.”

“Who’s lying,” Thor growls, surging forward with fists chest-high.

“So that’s how it is,” Loki snarls. “Now you’re going to hit me? All over a fucking misunderstanding? Fine, then. Do it. Go ahead.”

Thor makes himself stop.

Makes himself put his hands down.

“Of course not,” he says, quietly. He’s- scared. Scared and sad and hurting.

“Doesn’t _that_ just fucking figure,” Loki snaps. “You know, maybe I should have listened to her after all.”

~

Thor stands frozen, watching his brother go, all the way up to the slam of the bedroom door. And after that he just stands frozen, watching nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At therapy, a lot gets said.

"Go fuck yourself, Thor," Loki spits. "Just go fuck yourself. This is utterly fucking ridiculous," he tells Dr. Ginny.

It's been a bad, bad few days.

"Loki, please," she says, polite but stern. "I understand that you're angry, and that this is difficult. And you have my word; I’ll give you a chance to share your thoughts shortly, uninterrupted." She sets her pencil down and clasps her hands together, loosely. "Right now, though, I’d really appreciate it if you would be so kind as to afford your brother the same opportunity."

"What _thefuck_ ever," Loki grumbles under his breath, and then he makes a big dramatic show of clamping both hands over his own mouth.

Thor rolls his eyes.

"You, too, Thor; please try to be civil." She stares him down; he nods. "Thank you; both of you. Now, let's try talking about this again. Can you give us,” she asks, turning to Thor, “your quick impression of what happened the other night?"

He tries to choose his words carefully - "I was waiting for Loki, who was unusually late finishing up his volunteer activities" - but can't keep up the pretense. "It turns out he was late because he was hitting on some girl."

His brother somehow manages to growl through his nose, not the least bit quietly. "Loki," the doctor chastises. "Why do you say he was hitting on this woman," she asks Thor, making a quick notation. "What gave you that impression?"

"She was being all cute and flirtatious," he explains, "and he was encouraging her." Out of the corner of his eye he watches as Loki slams back against the couch cushions, mouth still covered. The whole couch shudders; Thor does his best to ignore it. "She told him he was giving up way too much for me. He let her put her number in his phone," he protests. "He _let_ her. And then" - the coup de grace - "he lied to me about the whole thing."

She makes another note. "Thank you," she says again, crisp and polite as ever. "Loki, do you think you can keep your temper in check for a couple of minutes?"

Thor carefully doesn't look over this time, but he can only assume Loki nods because Dr. Ginny continues.

"Okay, good. In that case, can you summarize what you heard just now," she asks, pencil hovering over her pad.

"Thor overheard me talking to Darcy, my volunteer coworker, and he thinks I was encouraging her to flirt with me," Loki drones in a lifeless monotone. "He bases this on how he thinks I let her criticize him, and he thinks I intentionally took her number."

She thanks him, too. "Is what Loki heard the same thing you meant to convey," she asks, and Thor nods. It's close enough, at least for starters.

"And is that what happened,” she asks, turning back to his brother, “in your opinion?"

Loki snorts. "No. Sorry," he amends, not sounding sorry in the least. "Sarcasm filter fail."

Dr. Ginny lets it go, possibly because he’s already called himself on it. "Can you tell me what you believe happened, from your own perspective this time?"

"My brother hid and spied on me, because he doesn't trust me. He overheard part of a conversation that had nothing to do with him, or him and me, at all and took it personally, and then he blamed me for things Darcy did." Loki sighs. "Basically, he got it all wrong, and then got all riled up over things that never happened. Oh, and," he starts in again as she attempts to say something, "he tried to pretend nothing was even the matter. He made it plain he didn't want to discuss anything with me."

Thor is _fuming_. Nothing his brother has just said is true, _nothing,_ and it all just makes him look bad. He growls in frustration, then slams the heel of one hand down on the couch arm. Hard.

"Thor," Ginny reminds him nicely, "please don't hit. If you need a stress ball,-" she starts to suggest, but he just can't take one second more of being patronized.

"No, I don't need a goddamned stress ball,” he snaps. “I need a boyfriend who doesn't lie like a fucking rug."

"Ohnono," Loki chimes in, "you need a _girlfriend_ , you mean. I'm the _fag_ , remember. Oh, _wait,_ " he goes on as Ginny sets her pencil down, "that's right - _Loki is a fag. Why would he be hitting on a girl_ ," he asks, voice a mocking sing-song.

"You seemed to like Sigyn alright, when you were eating her out _in my bed,_ " Thor retorts, loudly.

"Thor, I-," the doctor tries to cut in, but Loki won't let her.

"Oh, of course," his brother yells. " _That’s_ what this is about. _Your_ bed, _your_ apartment, _your your your._ Well, you know what? You can have every fucking last bit of it because I'm done here." He coils up off the couch and stomps past Ginny’s chair on his way to the door.

Just as Thor opens his mouth to fire back, it hits him: his brother is _leaving_. For about as long as it takes Loki to cross the room and grab the door handle, he can’t speak, can’t breathe, and then he’s crying. “Loki. No. Please.”

“Loki,” the doctor says quietly, “can you hold on for just a minute?”

Loki lets the door latch again, with a loud metallic snap. He doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t turn, but he doesn’t leave, either.

“It’s obvious both of you have very strong feelings about what happened the other night,” Dr. Ginny says, voice soft. Caring. “I’m going to ask each of you a short question, and I hope both of you will do your very best to answer honestly. Thor,” she starts, and he nods, wiping uselessly at the tears streaming down his face. “I expect you’ve thought about this quite a bit over the past few days.” He nods again, even though she’s not really asking; he’s thought of little else. “Is breaking up with Loki one of the solutions you’ve been entertaining?”

“ _What??_ ” His voice is a wet squawk. “ _NO!_ God, no. Of course not. That’s the _last_ thing I want. I love you, Loki,” he hurries out before she can cut him off. “You may not believe it but I do.” His brother shifts but still doesn’t answer. Still doesn’t turn.

“Thank you,” she says, still nicely, gently. She lets that last bit go without comment. “Loki,” she asks next, turning to look over her shoulder towards the door, “when you came here tonight, were you looking for a way out of your relationship?”

His brother shifts again. “No,” he offers at last. “I just- I wish he would be more _fair_.”

“Are you willing to stay here and talk with us,” she asks, still twisted around, and Thor cringes. His brother surely isn’t going to miss the fact that makes _two_ questions to Thor’s one.

Loki actually doesn’t protest, though. He doesn’t complain at all. For quite a while, long enough for the room to tilt and spin, he actually does and says absolutely nothing. At the tipping point, he sighs. When he turns back to face the room, the look on his face is- it’s nothing short of shocking. Loki- well, he looks like he did- when- when things were really bad.

Thor has to cover his own mouth with a hand. Two hands. He’s just this side of gagging.

Rather than coming back to the couch, Loki slides down the door and hits the floor with a loud thud.

The doctor stands - endlessly patient, graceful and unflappable in her tailored suit and glossy heels – and matter-of-factly drags her chair off to the side a little, repositioning it so she can sit between them and see them both again.

Loki doesn’t look at her; he studies his own hands, in his lap, instead.

“Okay,” she says, “let’s try a slightly different approach. Loki, you mentioned fairness. Do you think you can elaborate, without letting your anger take over?”

“I guess,” Loki tells her.

This time, his brother sounds completely exhausted rather than furious. Thor certainly knows the feeling; he’s dying here.

“My brother is attractive,” Loki goes on. “Not to mention popular. Women fall all over him, everywhere he goes.” He shrugs, still looking at his own hands. “I’m not a huge fan of it, sure, but you don’t see me going ballistic over it either.”

He stops for a moment, shifting to sit cross-legged. “And yet this one time someone shows an interest in me – yes, Thor, she did seem interested,” he admits, “I’ll give you that – it’s a federal offense. And I don’t get why. Not really,” he continues, quietly, “because you know what? In the end it doesn’t matter what Darcy wants. And you know why that is? No?” he prompts when neither of them interjects, 

“Well, I’ll tell you then. _I’m_ not interested in _her_. I’m taken. Happily taken,” he clarifies, and then laughs a little. “Well, maybe not so happily this week. But, still,” he finishes, looking straight at Thor for the first time since their shouting match, “I’m definitely not looking. Not at all. I already have what I want.”

Thor has what he wants, too. He just doesn’t know how to take good care of it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes good ideas show up in strange places.
> 
>  
> 
>  **WARNING:** Past reference to animals in peril.

"So, do you need to stop in this time? When you come by after work and get me?" Loki cocks an eyebrow. "Maybe pee around my desk? On my leg?" From the look on his face, it's not entirely clear if he's joking or serious. Pissed, as it were, or teasing.

Thor weighs his options. Yes, at some level – and it’s a level far, far too near the surface from what all these professionals are telling him - he would like nothing better than to march in and tell Darcy and anyone else within earshot that _this? This here is my boyfriend. MY boyfriend._ As in _not yours; mine_. Be that as it may, though, Thor can't even begin to imagine a scenario where saying anything along those lines might be okay. Might not get him slapped, for that matter.

Well, maybe if someone was threatening to beat the crap out of his brother...

Probably not even then, knowing Loki.

~

"I would love to come see the cats and kittens,” he offers, meaning it wholeheartedly, “so I can picture what you mean when you talk about spending time with them." That part is easy. "But I" - he almost says _don't want to_ , but that would be an outright lie - "shouldn't intrude on things with Darcy. Not unless you want me to." There. That's true enough, even if it doesn't go quite as far as he'd really like it to.

Loki makes a wry face. "You totally want to pee on my leg. Don't try and deny it."

"It's not that." Well, okay, it is. But only to a point. Thor thinks back to what his brother said to Dr. Ginny in therapy the other day - _he won't let me have a single thing that's mine_ \- and backpedals. "I want you to have this. I do. I want it to work for you, and I really _do_ want you to love it. I _love_ that you love it. I just-..." - he sighs; talking about stuff like this is such a fucking struggle - "I hope you don't find a replacement for me there."

Loki smirks. "As if anyone could replace you."

It somehow manages to be both a compliment and a slap in the face at the same time. Thor winces. For starters, he's not at all clear on how it was intended. Which feels a lot like a problem.

"Sorry," Loki says, probably reading more hurt in his expression than Thor had intended to let show. "Sore subject. I don't want to see other people, baby. And I don't want to see _no one_ , either, before you take _that_ option and run with it."

~

Sometimes it feels like therapy is just chewing through all his defenses.

Maybe that's the whole idea?

Ugh.

~

He has a thought, eventually: "Hey, do you always work with the same people?"

Loki squints. "No - everyone has his or her own schedule. Some people I see really often... others, it's more like once in three or four weeks. Occasionally it's just me there all alone, believe it or not. Why," he asks, still squinting.

Okay, this one he will put squarely in his brother's court. "I do want to see the place. Not to mention the demon spawn of which you seem so enamored. But I shouldn't" - he manages not to stammer this time, but still can't say _don't want to_ without feeling like there’s a gigantic flashing _L-I-A-R_ emblazoned across his forehead - "interfere with your friendships. So, you pick the audience. I'll take the grand tour whenever you feel like giving it."

~

He has to admit it; Thor never expected to see Loki so comfortable with something so- alive. His brother moves easily from cage to cage, scooping up one furry occupant after another and (giving some a quick cuddle before) setting - him? her? it? – down on the carpet. Each cat wanders around the enclosure, sniffing and inspecting, while Loki cleans up - Thor settles on _its,_ because he doesn't know the first thing about telling them apart – metal home away from home. Loki makes his efficient two-handed way along the wall of cages, spraying and dumping and wiping and fluffing, as one cat after another eyes Thor suspiciously.

"I don't think they like me," he complains.

The other volunteer helping out tonight, a college kid who says he's working towards a veterinary tech certificate, laughs. "They're not dogs," he points out. "They're cautious. They need time to warm up to you." He picks this cat - the one whose cage Loki is currently putting right - up and scratches its shoulders. "See?" He holds it out for Thor to scratch as well. "So, how do you and Loki know each other?"

Not siblings here, then: lovers. He scratches the cat gently. Nothing bad happens. "Uh, it's a long story," he evades. This is Loki's domain; it's his brother's place to decide what is and isn't shared.

The kid laughs again. "He says the exactly the same thing. The same _nothing_. I figure you guys must be in a witness protection program or something."

Thor laughs, too. It's just small talk. "Nothing that exciting, man, sorry," he says, even though it probably kind of is. Especially if you’re not living it. "We go way back," he offers. More nothing. "Which cat is your favorite," he asks brightly, thinking it's probably wise to change the subject before things get too awkward. He nods towards the uppermost row of cages, near the closer end. "That black one is pretty."

"I have a soft spot for the senior citizens," the kid tells him, setting the cat back down. It trots back over to Loki. "They don't deserve to be homeless and lonely. It’s sad, y'know? Old cats should be warm and cozy in someone's lap."

It _is_ sad, now that he thinks about it. Which he doesn't get to do long, though, because his brother comes over holding a tiny orange kitten. "Put your hands out," Loki directs, and then sets the little thing gently in his cupped palms. "Be careful - he's fragile," his brother cautions. It’s hardly necessary; Thor is afraid to breathe.

He brings the kitten to his chest, holding it in place with one hand and very tentatively stroking its little bony back with the other index finger. It cuddles against him, warm and light and fluffy like a baby bird. "Oh," he exclaims, and then feels bad because _that was a bit loud_. "Sorry," he whispers instead. "It's- _he's_ \- I think he's purring!"

"He likes you," Loki says, sounding happy. Thor smiles at him - his brother is so relaxed here - and looks down at the kitten. "I can't believe how small he is," he whispers. The little guy is dwarfed by Thor's big hands.

Loki grins. "He's only just three weeks old. We've all been bottle-feeding him. Marci here," he explains, gesturing with his head at a big, round-faced black cat (not the one Thor had been admiring), "thinks she's his mother. Which is great, of course, but she isn't." He touches the kitten's pink button nose, laughing softly when it squeaks in what sounds like protest. "So we have to help out. He's doing great, though," he finishes, beaming. Loki never beams. It's amazing. _So beautiful,_ Thor thinks, meaning both his brother and the tiny palmful of orange he’s holding.

The door chimes behind him. Before Thor can react Loki, one hand splayed across his chest to protect the kitten, catches his mouth in a hard, hungry, desperate kiss. It startles him - it's out of absolutely nowhere, without the least hint of warning - and he jumps, clacking teeth with his brother a little painfully. "Ouch," he huffs into Loki's mouth; Loki snakes his free hand into Thor's hair and reels him right back in.

"Loki," Darcy's voice rings out against the hard metal cages. "How’s it-? Oh. _OH._ Oooh, you go, boys!"

Loki slowly extricates himself just enough to answer, grinning a sharp, crooked grin at Thor. "Hi, Darcy," he says turning. "Thor, Darcy,” he offers, politely but a little unnecessarily. “Darcy, this is my partner, Thor."

She looks him up and down and up again - "Whew!!” – pretending to fan herself. "Good job, Loki," she commends, stepping back and taking another long look. "You caught a fine one. He's hot. You're _so_ hot," she tells him directly. “Look at you!”

"Nice to meet you," he says, even though the jury is decidedly still out. "I would offer to shake," he tells her, gesturing a little with his shoulders, "but- kitten?"

"That's okay," she assures him, giving him the full force of her megawatt smile. "You can owe me."

~

"Did you know she was going to be coming in," Thor asks as they walk to the car. He can still feel the ghost of the kitten's warm imprint in his palm.

"Of course," Loki says, stopping. "There's a schedule, remember?" He smiles at Thor, eyes sparkling in the light of a neon sign from a nearby bar window. "I knew you wanted to mark your territory."

Thor feels abruptly guilty. Guilty and embarrassed. The whole idea; it’s not funny or appealing anymore. "But I- I didn't-."

"Hush." Loki silences him with cool, faintly disinfectant-scented fingers. "It was my idea, remember?" He traces the outline of Thor's bottom lip. "Are we a little better?"

Thor touches the tip of his tongue to his brother’s fingers. “Point taken,” he says, instead of answering. “I should have trusted your judgment.”

~

This time, they hold hands in the car. When Loki asks if he wants to stop for something to eat, Thor does and says so.

~

“So,” he prompts between forkloads of gnocchi, “tell me more about that kitten.”

Loki swallows his own mouthful. “Mac,” he asks. “The one you were holding?”

“Mm,” Thor hums; he’s just taken another excessively large bite. It’s the best he can do without being utterly disgusting.

“It’s not a very nice story,” his brother says. There’s a smudge of sauce on his lip and Thor wants to lean in and taste it, but something in Loki’s tone stops him.

He swallows, what turns out to be a little prematurely, and has to wash everything down with a big gulp of sparkling water. And, of course, burp as discretely as possible. “Tell me anyway,” he suggests. A lot of stories aren’t nice. _Their_ story isn’t nice.

“Okay. Just remember; you asked for it.” Loki takes a delicate sip of his own water. “The mother cat, Mac’s mother, must have been moving her kittens. They do that, you know,” – Thor didn’t, but he does now – “when they think the babies are in danger. Anyway, I guess she was trying to carry two at the same time and she dropped one. She set our little buddy Mac down by the curb and turned back to get the other kitten, and a car hit her.” 

He stops, blinking back tears, and Thor feels his own throat tighten. “Some nice woman saw it happen. The asshole who ran them over didn’t even stop.” He wipes his face angrily. “I guess she – this woman - rushed all of them to the vet but there was nothing- well, it was hopeless. Coincidentally the kid who was helping out tonight is doing some training shifts at that office,” – he snuffs and wipes his face again, and Thor has to blot his own eyes with a napkin – “and he brought Mac to the shelter because the volunteers could provide ‘round-the-clock care.”

“Mm,” Thor says again, because he isn’t sure what else to say. That, and he’s all choked up.

“I hate it that someone would do something like that,” Loki tells him. “People suck.”

That they do. Thor nods.

“Little Mac, though? He’s a survivor.”

Thor reaches across the table, using his thumb to catch a tear snaking its way down his brother’s flushed cheek. “I have to tell you, baby… it takes one to know one.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many different types of scary...

“How’s Mac?”

Thor finds himself asking that question all the time now. First, it was just the days he picked Loki up at the shelter. He quickly realized, though, that the dietician at the center was keeping his brother far more regularly updated. Now he asks Loki- um, pretty much constantly.

It ought to be embarrassing. Somehow, it isn’t.

He’s never considered himself much of an animal person – okay, he’s never considered himself any bit an animal person, not once, not _at all_ \- but something about the little orange kitten with the sad, sad history clings to him and just won’t be scrubbed away.

It’s the kind of situation where Thor half expects his brother to laugh at him.

Loki doesn’t.

“He’s good. He’s getting so big! You should stop in tonight and see him,” his brother suggests. “He’s so much fun now. He plays.” Loki grins. “It’s the silliest thing. But I can’t even begin to do it justice, honestly. You really have to see it.”

“Okay,” Thor promises, grinning back. “Tonight. Deal.”

~

Sitting at his desk, later that morning, he can’t help but wonder if they’re _about to get themselves a kitten._ The idea frightens him, far out of proportion to its relative enormity; the only living thing he’s ever taken care of – been responsible for, in any way, – is his brother, and he’s certainly fucked _that_ up in every conceivable way. And then some… some pretty inconceivable ways, too. Thor just isn’t sure he can safely care for something so small and fragile.

He’s not _good_ at that sort of thing.

Loki, on the other hand, clearly has some real talent for it. So, there’s that.

The whole thing is pretty fucking ironic, though.

_A pet._ He rolls the idea around in his brain, day in and day out. He’s been careful not to mention a word of it to his brother, though; not because he’s hiding it, just because it’s still too tentative. He doesn’t want to raise Loki’s hopes and then not be able to deliver. His brother has had to cope with more than enough disappointment, at Thor’s hands and otherwise, as it stands. A lifetime’s worth, and then some. The last thing he wants is to be the cause of more.

~

At the shelter that evening, Thor can tell almost immediately that something is wrong. Loki makes a show of being pleased to see him, but his brother’s good cheer is obviously forced. Strained. He has to remind himself several times that he’s here because he was invited, not because he gate-crashed; he feels that unwelcome.

It doesn’t help that Loki’s the only one working, so there isn’t anyone else to talk to instead.

“Is everything okay,” he asks his brother for the umpteenth time. He’s starting to annoy himself, even, but everything feels _wrong_ and he _wants to know. Has_ to know, really. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fine, Thor,” Loki snaps, biting his name off like it’s a swear word. “Let it go already. I have a lot to do here.”

He really doesn’t want to be in the way. The cats need his brother’s full attention. “Can I help with anything,” he offers, honestly wanting to do whatever he can. “Or should I wait outside?”

Loki sets his spray bottle and rag down, deliberately, like he’s trying hard not to throw them. He rests his forehead against the bars of the next cage in line; Marci rubs against the door, hoping in vain for some love. “No, but no. I’m sorry. I wanted you to come play with Mac; play with Mac. I’ll get him for you.”

~

It’s been a few weeks now since Thor held the tiny orange fluffball. Mac is now a bona fide small cat, all big pink-orange ears and spindly legs, and a pointy thing out the back that looks much less like a Christmas tree and much more like a tail.

Loki sets him on the carpet in front of Thor; the little guy takes off at a dead run around the enclosure, pausing occasionally to leap at nothing and land with claws out and feet splayed wide. “Here, you can play with him with this,” Loki directs, handing Thor a thin plastic rod sporting a static-y tassel of long mylar filaments on one end. “He loves it, insanely. You’ll see.”

~

It takes Thor longer to get the hang of the toy than it does Mac. The kitten rips the thing out of his hands three or four times before Thor finally figures out how to keep a step or two ahead of him.

After that, though, Loki is right: the whole game is absolutely hilarious - kittens are a lot like flying squirrels, Thor discovers, with no small degree of amusement – and pretty much all-consuming.

So much so that he’s not even sure when Loki traded cleaning for standing and watching. “He’s a lot of fun,” Thor says, by turns laughing and panting a little, when he finally notices his brother lurking nearby. “I had no idea playing with kittens was such hard work!” Mac is down on pointy little orange elbows, fuzzy bottom wiggling in the air. The victim? Thor’s shoelace, which takes a fierce beating. “Doesn’t he ever get tired?”

He simply couldn’t have timed the question better. Right on cue Mac gives up and half sits, half lies on his pale orange tummy, lashing his little tail and breathing hard. “Come here, my little pincushion,” Thor tells him, scooping the kitten up and cuddling him close. “Congratulations. You win. You’ve worn us both out.”

Thor watches Loki – who has gone back to cleaning, finally - a long time, absent-mindedly stroking the small orange creature curled in the crook of his arm.

~

“Do you want to stop for something,” he tries. Attempts at kitten-related small talk have fallen massively short, and this fares no better:

“No,” Loki says. “Just take me home.”

“What’s-,” he starts yet again, but his brother cuts him off.

“Don’t start. Don’t- just don’t even.”

“I’m only worried,” Thor says, by way of apology. Well, _excuse,_ at least.

That, his brother doesn’t even bother dignifying with a reply.

~

Back in the apartment, Loki is an edgy mess. Pacing. Sitting. Pacing. Sitting. Sighing. Pacing some more. While Thor is all but crawling out of his own skin, he’s still doing his level best to let this play out… his brother has made it clear he doesn’t want to talk, and pushing- well, pushing will probably just make it worse. Much worse. Thor swallows uneasily. “Do you want some popcorn?”

“No,” Loki huffs. “Would you _please_ just le-…” And then he stops, head hanging. “I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole. I don’t mean to be.”

Thor takes the high road. “I’m just concerned, baby. You’re acting really tense, really distant, and it’s scaring me.”

Loki hides his face in his hands. His nails are uniformly black again, gleaming in the low light, and Thor wonders briefly how he manages to keep his manicure looking so good with all the shelter cleaning and scrubbing.

He wonders, because his beleaguered brain needs something – anything – to focus on. “C’mere,” he says, patting the couch between his spread thighs.

Miracle of miracles, Loki does. He perches rigidly on the edge of the cushion, elbows on knees and face in hands. Still, it’s better than nothing.

Thor reaches out and tucks a stray piece of his brother’s hair neatly behind the shell of one pale pink ear, then lets his palms settle gently onto Loki’s shoulders. _What is it,_ he wants to ask, so badly.

Instead, he waits.

Finally, Loki heaves a huge sigh. “I got a text from someone today and it- it got to me. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid, Thor. I’m sick of being afraid.”

“A text,” Thor echoes, not sure what it might be safe to ask. To say.

Loki slumps forward, hands traveling from face to slim upper arms. Thor resists the urge to run a finger over his brother’s shiny black polish. He takes his own hands back and carefully doesn’t try to touch at all, actually, for fear of driving Loki away.

“From one of Malekith’s guys,” his brother continues, and Thor’s stomach lurches. “Offering to set me up with someone here. Someone who will sell me narcotics,” Loki clarifies. “Because he’s sure I’m going to relapse eventually.” He clears his throat. “ _When you realize the mistake you’re making_ , the text said.” He twists back to look at Thor, eyes big and wet. “I don’t want to go back to it,” he pleads. “I can’t. It will kill me.”

“Shh,” Thor soothes, finally daring once again to touch his brother. Even though, underneath it all, his own heart is about to pound its way out through his ribs. “You’re safe here. If you don’t want to go back to it, you don’t have to. I promise,” he adds, and for once he really, really means it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Letting go of the past can be frightening.

"He thinks I'm just too weak to beat it forever," Loki says quietly, pulling at a loose thread hanging from the worn hem of his t-shirt. Three quarters of the time he swims in his clothes, today being no exception.

The rest of the time he simply doesn’t bother wearing any.

"But you're not weak," Thor insists. "You're the strongest person I know. Seriously," he adds as his brother makes a wry face. "I mean that, every bit of it. You've been through so much and- and yet here you are."

"When Thor says positive things about you, how do you feel," Dr. Ginny asks Loki. Thor jumps; for a moment there, he'd pretty much forgotten the two of them weren't alone.

His brother shrugs. He's still picking at his shirt hem, looking intently at the fabric rather than meeting anyone's eyes. "I- I'm- I mean, I'm glad he supports me. I am. But a lot of the time," he says, finally working the thread free and pulling, slowly making the whole hem unravel, "I feel like he's... naive? A sucker? Saying what he wants to be true, even though it- it isn't?"

When Ginny makes a sympathetic little hum Loki goes on, with a bit more vehemence. "I'm not strong," he protests. "I stole shit and sold it - shit from my parents; even _you,_ Thor,” he adds, still not looking away from his own fingers, “and not just once, I assure you - all for one more high. And when that ran dry, I let people _use_ me." He wraps the loose thread neatly around one finger, tight enough to blanch the tip waxy-pale. "I would let them do absolutely _anything_ to me, just so they'd pay. _Weak,_ " he spits. "This tough guy Thor keeps commending? He sounds like a great person and all that" - Loki tugs the thread so hard it snaps, audibly, and Thor winces - "but I sure the fuck don't know him."

~

"All that stuff you bring up as examples," Thor points out, carefully choosing _bring_ over _dredge_ even though the latter rings far more true, "whenever you want people to side with you about how much you supposedly suck?" He pauses, waiting for his brother to finally look up at him before continuing. "That was all while you were using. A lot." Loki shrugs. Says nothing. "It wasn't _you_."

Thor knows what he _means_ , but always manages to fall massively short of successfully explaining himself somehow.

"So _that was the drugs talking_ ," Loki sing-songs. "That's what you're saying?"

It is and it isn't. "Kind of," he hedges.

Loki stares him down now, challenging. "So, was it _the booze talking_ the night you broke my jaw?"

"That's different," Thor tells him. "That was a whole lot of things, not the least of which being _I had no control of my temper_."

"Mm-hm," Loki says, nodding. His eyes are hard. "But that's not weakness?"

"Like I said," Thor huffs, frustrated (with himself, with his brother), "it's not the same thing."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night," Loki says, tone disgusted and expression mocking. He gets up off the floor, graceful and icy cold, and stalks away.

~

"What did your therapist say," Thor asks as pleasantly as he can. "About the text, I mean." This isn't one of his brother's shelter days; Loki was already home when he got here. There's still a decided chill in the air, too; he wishes like anything he knew how to fix it.

"The same thing as everyone else," Loki says, flatly. "I should change my number and only give it out very selectively." He frowns. "Same old same old. It was something I was supposed to take care of as soon as I came home from residential treatment."

"And," Thor finally prods, when it becomes painfully obvious Loki thinks the conversation is over.

" _And_ why didn't I? Isn't _that_ just the million dollar question."

Thor steps up to the cliff's edge and dives. "What are you afraid of," he asks his brother, mouth abruptly dry and heart racing.

"Ceasing to exist," Loki says, hugging his shoulders tightly as Thor tries and fails to swallow past the lump in his own throat. "How's that for irony?"

~

Ultimately, Thor sweetens the pot a little. By the end of the week they leave the phone store with a brand new, pristine cell phone - paid for out of pocket, because Loki's old phone wasn't due for replacement - and every accessory known to man.

And a new number.

And a big, gleeful smile on Loki's face.

Given those last two things, the rest is completely worth it.

~

They had to turn in the old unit, so _burning that sucker_ (or even smashing it to bits) is out of the question. Instead, they have a SIM-cutting ceremony - with Sif and Steve, who either understand completely or play along with incredible skill and grace - back at the apartment.

By the time they're done, the thing is just tiny bits of metal-striped plastic.

No more menace, no more fear. Just plastic crumbs.

"Thai," Thor suggests, when they've all had their fun; he very much wants to make this a party, a celebration, after all.

~

"To Loki," Sif toasts, raising her mango juice to tap Thor's tea.

"To Loki," he and Steve reply in unison.

Loki smiles, shy and a little embarrassed-looking. He raises his drink - it's something coconut; it looks nasty and Thor isn't sure he even _wants_ to know - and touches each of their glasses in turn. "To friends."

Thor sniffs and wipes his nose. "Spicy," he offers when Loki and Sif both turn to look. “What?”

"Liar;" Loki says, laughing.

"Oh, no; it very much _is_ spicy," Thor insists, offering up a healthy scoop of panang curry with his chopsticks.

His brother takes the curry neatly, pink tongue out to catch the last of it. And then grins, lips puffy and red from the cumulative heat of their meal. He’s nothing if not _enticing_. Thor shifts uncomfortably. "You're a liar, nevertheless," Loki states definitively, still smiling.

“He’s got you there, old buddy,” Sif quips. They all share a laugh this time.

_To friends._

~

"You know what would make tonight absolutely perfect," Loki starts in as they're polishing off the very last of their dinner. "Cover your ears, Steve," he adds, smiling dangerously.

Thor waits, more than a little nervous. He knows that look, and he doesn't even begin to dare ask.

"We should fuck," Loki stage whispers - and Steve _does_ cover his ears then, but it's too late: he's blushing crimson from collar to hairline - "in the park."

Sif giggles, not the least bit quietly.

"Don't encourage him," Thor admonishes. "No, baby," he says, fighting to stay strong in the face of Loki's very best pout. "You have priors. I've been disbarred. _No_ fuck is worth hard time."

"Ooooh," Sif hoots, but Loki just grins again.

"Fine. On the balcony, then," he counters. "You can gag me. For Steve."

And just like that it’s Thor's turn to redden. Between _that_ mental picture, his brother’s mouth, and the hot food, he's dying. "Loki," he hisses, shooting Sif an _a little help here, please_ look. “Behave.”

Sif just smiles sweetly. "You know, I think my good friend Steve here and I will stop off for ice cream."

Steve nods enthusiastically, ears still covered, and then blushes even redder. He puts both hands on his placemat, bracketing the plate. "I lip-read," he says.

"I'm so sorry," Thor assures him, laughing.

~

Even with the ball gag stuffing his mouth (what seems as though it must be _uncomfortably full_ , but it’s almost painfully hot-looking and Thor’s long since learned that _your mileage may vary_ when it comes to his brother), Loki is far too loud for city living.

On the chaise, Thor simply doesn’t have enough hands to do a thing about it.

He tells himself that’s why they’ve ended up like this: Loki, back arched like a bow, clinging to the balcony railing for dear life and panting hard through his nose; himself, one hand clamped over that loud little mouth (gag and all) and the other steadying Loki’s hip, thrusting hard and fast into his brother from behind.

That Thor is also so turned on by the whole little tableau that he literally can’t see straight, so far gone at the end that he has to bite into Loki’s shoulder to stifle his own cries? Well, it’s just plain nobody’s business.

~

“See, baby,” Thor tells his brother later, when they’re cleaned up and curled together in bed, “the phone is gone and _you’re still here._ "

“Go to sleep,” Loki mutters, but he doesn’t sound angry anymore. Thor smiles in the dark. He’ll take it.


End file.
